


Survival of the Fittest

by choccy_milk666



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalyptic, F/F, Father Figure, Gorey(?), Other, Survival, but also not really, i'll probably add more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choccy_milk666/pseuds/choccy_milk666
Summary: This is just a survival story I had to do for an English assignment, also the reason why I've been on a small hiatus from my first story. Let me know if you guys want more of this? Even though I'm not actually talking to anyone lmao





	Survival of the Fittest

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very rushed piece that I technically handed in late but my teacher was super chill with it and didn't give me a penalty so...hell yeah! Enjoy,,,

As I walk through the ruins of a once striving city, the sound of gravel and rotting bodies crunch under my black boots. I’m fully clad in leather, covering my face with a dark red bandana wrapped around my face, only allowing my eyes to be exposed to the open air. Ever since 2054, humanity has gone to mayhem, the result of a freak accident involving toxic gas that seeps into and melts the minds of anyone who takes it in, morphing them into mutants that are unkillable, irresponsive and extremely violent with nasty warts that bubble and poppe and dribble out pus from even the least amount of pressure on them. Despite, the disgusting turn of events, these creatures stay relatively undeterred and continue in their treachery like nothing can hurt them.

 

I hear the tell-tale noise of a little bell ringing, paired with the pitter patter of Elliot’s paws, persistent beside me. Elliot is my dog, a mix of a labrador and retriever with black fur and pure white chest, tongue sticking out, moving with every huff he takes. When the first wave of the virus broke out, all types of species were affected, save for a few special types of breeds, Elliot included. I thanked the stars above, after 3 months of seeing no warts or bloodshot eyes in him, knowing full well he’d be my only family from now on. Thinking back to when I was still only 12 years old and forced to flee my home, away from the monstrosities that replaced my family, I shook the cold feeling of long nights spent on a hard, dirty path, trying my best to remain discreet and out of sight, in an attempt to avoid any other people who had been affected.

 

I see a small tennis ball roll across the road I was walking, bringing me back to the present. Calling out to Elliot, I pick up the ball. When he doesn’t come immediately, I put my fingers to my mouth and blow hard, making a loud whistling noise. I smile as I see him come bounding towards me, preparing to jump up on his hind legs and catch the ball in his mouth. He catches it with a practiced ease, wagging his tail in pride. However, it’s short lived, when unwelcomed guests intrude our happy moment, snarling and salivating at the mouth, warts and old scars scattered over their body. My smile is instantly wiped from my face, in favour of a cold and resigned expression; stoic. I turn slowly to face the group of infected bodies, fiddling with the straps of my leather gloves and pushing the cloth piece further up my mouth and nose, so as not to end up like the unfortunate souls in front of me.

 

There are about four of them in total, three humans and one dog. Its fur is matted in dirt and grime, its eyes barely open, due to the gross boils and blisters invading its face. They continue to groan at me, arms swinging rabidly on their sides. I lean back on my right leg studying their movements as they rush towards me. I raise my arms, watching two charge forward and sway from left to right, moving haphazardly, but somehow still in unison. Taking a step backwards, I place my hands behind both of their skulls, smashing them together before sliding to the right, out of the way from a bounding hound and kicking its side, watching it skid to the floor with a hiss. I almost feel sorry, before realising there’s still one more standing, the other two slowly gaining consciousness again. I grab at the hilt of my pocket knife, tucked neatly in the belt of my pants. Flipping it over in my hand once, I charge towards the last standing, making sure to stay aware of the others, and driving the blade into its stomach. It groans and gags, clawing at the wound as it pukes up blood. I flinch, knowing fair well that if I catch any of it on me, I’ll be infected within the next few hours, days if I’m lucky.

 

It’s too late, however, as I see one of the creatures from before coming to crash into me, drool running down its chin and mixing with all different types of liquids; blood, soot etc. Tired and out of breath, I close my eyes, calming my mind and stilling my body. But instead of being mauled over, I hear a short, gruff howl and sharp biting into flesh. When I open my eyes, I see Elliot sitting patiently in front of me, mouth covered in disgusting dry blood, but holding a ball in his mouth, happily. I smile down at him, wondering how he could be so innocent right after ripping a limb off a live person. Granted they were infected, so I assume that could help. After looking at my surroundings, I realise he ripped off a lot more limbs than just one. I kneel down petting his head affectionately.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, watching him jump up excitedly, trotting away, ball still in his mouth. I laugh to myself, kicking at the dirt on my shoes, following him along. I find myself, once again, thanking my lucky stars.

 

 

 

\----------

 

 

 

Rummaging through a pile of scraps of cans and bottles of water, I finally find something. It’s been days since the last time I’ve eaten, my stomach feeling like its been scraped from the inside out. I clutch at it hungrily, stuffing it into a wrecked plastic bag. I couldn’t wait to get back to the shelter now, knowing I had something to look forward to.

 

I pick the bag up around the base, looping my arms around it, careful not to break or tear it any more than it already has and start moving towards another alleyway just across from the one I’m in now, making sure to be discreet and draw as little amount of attention as I can to myself. Scurrying up against one of the alley walls, I breathe out, relief flooding the anxiety of being ambushed out of my body, causing me to sink down to the ground and catch a breath. I wonder how I managed to make it this far on my own, pride swelling in my chest.

 

I’m quick to stamp it down, though, when I hear the clank of boots and a loud bark. My smile fades, replaced with a hardened glare pointed to the ground. I hold the bag closely to my chest, praying to the gods that they were looking down on me this very moment, blessing me, willing away the bandits that were surely heading my way.

 

I’d run into them many times before, always stealing my supplies and tearing apart my shelters, cackling at me as they drove off in stolen cars. It bothered me how people who seemed as brain dead as them, were doing the best at surviving in this retched mess. I ball my hands into fists, willing the tears away and puffing out my chest, trying to look as intimidating as possible even with my tiny stature and slim limbs. I feel my heart thudding uncontrollably in my chest, my breathing growing louder every step closer the figure gets to where I was. I scrunch my eyes closed, feeling my knees go weak and legs buckle ever so slightly. But the faint _shing_ sound has my eyes opening again. _A knife?_ I think, panicking. _I can’t defend myself against a bandit with a knife!_ At this point, I’m hyperventilating, watching scarcely as the silhouette of a man with his hand outstretched approaches in a crouched position, a smaller shadow following closely beside him. I pinch my brows together and scowl as hard as I can, still breathing harshly, fists lifted to my face, plastic bag long forgotten, as the man reveals himself in a flash. My façade crumbles immediately, dropping to my knee and clasping my hands together.

 

“Mercy!” I plead, the word coming out in a hoarse whisper, desperate. I stay like that for a long while, sitting in intense silence with a stranger, praying my life will be spared. When I’m sure he’s going to strike at me, I’ve dissolved into a sobbing mess, arms crossed over my stomach and keeling over. What I didn’t expect was a warm hand coming down on my shoulder. I flinch at the touch, head immediately raising just as its removed. He’s about to pull away, when I grab onto it, granted a little hesitant and bowing down again.

 

“Thank you,” I sob. There’s another long silence before the stranger is shifting and I feel a heavy piece of clothing resting on my shoulders. I look up again, eyes glossy and face blotchy. He smiles down at me, warm. Past his shoulder, I spot a dog, black fur save for a white belly. He looks a lot cleaner than most dogs I’ve seen, besides the dry matted red soaked into the fur below his mouth. He’s panting happily nonetheless and that makes me feel a little better. I bring my attention back to man in front of me. He looks a lot older than me, wrapped up completely in black long pants and sleeves, a dark red scarf wrapped around his face.

 

“What’s your name?” he asks, voice deep and strong. It’s kind though, which leaves me a little stunned, not knowing how to respond. I’m not entirely sure what my name is. I was only a couple years old when the virus struck, it was like a forgotten miracle I was even alive in the first place. I’m fairly sure it started off with a ‘J’, but that’s as far as my memories will take me.

 

“Um…” I say, unsure. He continues smiling, adjusting the heavy leather jacket on my shoulders, so they don’t slip off.

 

“Well hi, ‘Um’,” he starts, raising a brow playfully. I laugh, small and quiet, still on the fence, and he continues with a soft expression, “would you like to come with me and my friend?” he points over to the dog and my attention is back on it. I nod silently, looking at it in wonder. It occurs to me that it’s much more friendly than the ones I’ve seen before, it makes me want to reach out and touch it. The man blows out a small puff of air and extends his hand out to me. After a bit, I realise he’s asking me to hold it. I take it in my hand as I push myself off my knees. They’re red and sore from sitting on them for so long, my legs wobbling a little. My eyes never leave the dog, eyes sparkling in interest and delight. I’d never seen a dog that looked so happy, though judging from the blood on him, he wasn’t always nice, which made me wary. The man seemed to pick up on that.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, gently. I nod, then think for a little bit and decide to change my answer, shaking my head. He lets out a small laugh and smiles patiently.

 

“Is something wrong?” he asks. I nod again.

 

“Would you like to tell me?” he asks again. I open my mouth and close it again, slightly frustrated. I’m not the best at talking, seeing as I never had anyone I could talk to. My vocabulary is mostly limited to pleads and begs and ‘stop’. But seeing his kind face, I decide to try.

 

“N..name.” I ask, determined, remembering from before how his lips had moved so obediently to how he wanted, uttering the same word with ease. His eyes widen a fraction as he makes a little ‘o’ noise. I giggle a little, making him smile again.

 

“My name is Markus,” he says. He points once again at the dog and continues, “that’s Elliot. He’s all dirty right now, but you can pet him once we get him cleaned up,” he says, as if knowing that’s what I wanted. He scared me a little at first, but I decided I could trust him. For now. I smiled back at him.

 

“Me…J..” it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to remember. Small flashes of faint memories come to mind, but never words, only ever small clips of a life I can’t recall. I shrug to myself and look back up at him.

 

“Me. Jay.” I tell him, final. His smile widens, seeming content with my name.

 

“Nice to meet you, Jay.” He replies. We walk the rest of the way in silence, but instead of the intense tension, it’s an easy environment, both comfortable enough with each other to just walk.

 

 

\------------

 

 

 

“There we go, bucko, all cleaned up.” I say, blocking my face from Elliot, shaking out the water with a laugh. We had just gotten back with a new addition to our pair, Jay. I look over to where she was sitting comfortable on a pile of sheets, freshly bathed and in some clothes, I had managed to pick up from an old abandoned thrift store near the hideout. It was small, filled with a big tin bucket that acts as a bath tub and fills sufficiently with water, a small shelf of cans of food and bottles of water, whatever I can manage to get my hands on and a small box; my most treasured possession at this point in time. I had just been sent on a new mission and having as valuable resources as I did on me, I was only a little nervous of the possible outcomes. I look over to the little girl, a new presence I had yet to get completely used to.  She was still a little stiff, obviously wary of me, so I knew to give her some space. She was very small, especially being out on her own like this. She seemed like she was only about 11, 12? How did she survive this long? Was she with someone, but they got infected? Or maybe they just left her entirely? Maybe-

 

“Mummy, daddy got sick,” she said abruptly, shaking me from my thoughts, “was this small,” she continued closing one eye and pinching her fingers together. For a second I was stunned, as if she had just read my mind. My brows knit together, sympathetic for the little girl. She didn’t seem to know a lot of English, which was slowly making sense considering she had no one to even talk with, or anyone who talked to her.

 

“How did you survive?” she seemed to understand what I was saying, and I prayed she would continue to. Her eyes seemed to light up at that, moving to rummage through the small plastic bag she had clung onto the entire trip here. She pulled out a silver tin can, shoving it into my chest, not aggressively, but more prideful.

 

“Sneaky,” she says, her two forefingers tip toeing across the palm of her other hand. I make an ‘ah’ noise and mimic the action.

 

“Sneaky,” I repeat, as if in understanding. She grins, toothy up at me and I smile back. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen a child before.

 

“Alright, why don’t you get tucked in and get some rest,” I suggest, laying out another sheet for her head to rest. She crawled in the sheets, rubbing at her eyes, and yawning gently. I smiled, tucking her in and hushing her quietly.

 

“We can talk more tomorrow,” I tell her, “we need to get up early to start moving,” I had to get moving to the Medusa, one of the only standing organizations dedicated to finding a cure. When I know she’s asleep I scoot back to where Elliot is seated. I hug up to Elliot, sighing deeply. He licks at my face for a bit, making me laugh tiredly. I feel my eyes get droopy, laced in sleep. My last thought is of Jay, wondering how she had managed to make it this whole time without being infected. And then it went dark.

 

 

 

\-----------------

 

 

I wake up to the sound of screeching tires and manic laughing. I groan groggily, trying to shake the sleep from my eyes, rubbing at them harshly. I pat at the ground looking for the small makeshift bed with Jay. When I find the bed empty, I’m fully awake now alert and panicky.

 

“Jay?” I call out, spinning on the spot, for any signs of the little girl. When I hear no answer, besides the continued cackling I finally focus in on the high-pitched screaming coupled with searing tyres and loud barking outside. It’s the first time he notices Elliot inside here either and bursts out faster than I ever have. I’m met with harsh rays of sun and two working trucks doing burn outs and donuts at the front. I immediately recognise the two ring leaders, one holding onto a snarling fierce dog and the other struggling with a kicking and screaming child, on the verge of tears.

 

“Nice of you to join us, Markus!” the one holding Jay says. Her hair is jet black a stark contrast against her pale skin, surprising considering how exposed she always is to the sun. She has her hair tied up into short pigtails, bouncing happily, a v-shaped front fringe covering her forehead. I take a step towards the cars, that had finally skid to a holt, shooting a menacing glare at the two figures. Underneath my hard exterior however, I’m freaking, worrying over the little girl as if she was my own. _Is this normal?_ I wonder, wrapping my head around the new found protectiveness I find upon this girl’s danger.

 

“Kneel, hound! We’re just here to talk,” the other says cheekily. Unlike her partner, she’s been very much affected by the rays, her skin more tan, freckles scattering her face.

 

“And why would I talk to you?” I hiss, annoyed.

 

“Do you really have a choice?” the first asks, bluntly. I shut my mouth, tense.

 

“That’s what I thought,” she smirks.

 

“Let’s all just sit down, Nerd Boy, alright?” I cringe at the name but decide to swallow my pride and just wait till I have Elliot and Jay back. After a long while, I finally calm down enough to bite back a reply.

 

“Fine.” I say bitterly. I see them both smirking at each other, and I feel the sinking feeling in my gut as they make their way towards me, a group of men following behind them.

 

“We want to know where Medusa is.” The tanned skin girl says. I freeze immediately.

 

“You know I can’t do that.” He says.

 

“M..Medusa?” I turn my gaze to Jay as soon as she speaks. I look at her with panic in my eyes.

 

“You haven’t told the girl, huh?” she smirks.

 

“What? No I-“

 

“Save it,” she interrupts me. “don’t worry sweetie, we’ll save you from this bad man as soon as we get to the Medusa,” she slides her claws down Jay’s cheek, sarcasm dripping in her words. I watch with baited breath, a flare of anger rising in my veins.

 

“Get your hands off her!”

 

“Where’s Medusa?” she demands.

 

“I’ll show you!” I say, desperate, “please, just, don’t hurt her.” The girl with black hair smirks wider.

 

“Glad to see you cooperating, Doc.” She purrs, dropping her hand from Jay’s face.

 

“Put ‘em in the cell, boys. Direct us to where we need to go Nerd Boy and _maybe_ we’ll let you live.” I stand frozen, obliging to the men guiding me to a holding cell, grunting when they push a little too hard. That only gets me a hard shove into metallic bars, groaning at the force. I shut my eyes, accepting defeat and breathing in, trying my hardest to stay calm and keep my head on. Sucking in the strong smell of dusty sand and gasoline I hear the cell doors swing open and a few squeals of protests and husky barks, before two loud thumps erupt, most likely the sound of impact of two bodies. I hear a small whine and I’m not sure if it was from Elliot or Jay. Opening my eyes, I rush to Jay’s side, helping her sit up and brushing dirt off her face. She flinches before relaxing, realising it was me and I have to shove down the small swell of pride of getting her comfortable to me so quickly, so I can quell her still worried expression.

 

“Where?” she says, breathlessly. My brows crease in confusion, shaking my head at her, wondering what she means. She grunts at me in frustration and I feel a little guilty. I decide I should start teaching her English when we’re somewhere safer.

 

“Medusa?! Where?” she shouts, urgent. My face relieves in understanding before turning stern again and looking around us. The small cell walls are covered in some type of animal skin, giving off a horrible rotting smell that makes me want to gag but I push through, keeping a brave face for Jay. I feel a small nudge on my thigh and instinctively reach to pet Elliot’s head, turning back to Jay.

 

“Medusa is…” I try my best to find a way to explain the complexity of Medusa to this small girl, unable to find the right words where she would understand. Not only was it a company to fight the virus, but it was also a rebellion, to well, _fight_ the virus. Nodding my head, I tell her, “Medusa is like a religion.” Gauging for her reaction, I find that’s not a word she’s very familiar with, so I opt for a different approach.

 

“It’s like a place of belief. Something you feel is doing right by you.” I say, seeing that she understands, I continue, “it’s a place that is trying to help make the world a little bit better.” I smile, deciding not to elaborate too much more on it.

 

“I can’t tell you much more, Jay. Not here.” I say, looking around us again, “these are bad people.” I say, finality in my voice. When I turn back, I see Jay nod rather seriously, as if she knew the degree of danger we were in with these people. I find myself taking pity on her, looking at how much faster she’s had to mature in life than she should’ve. I silently swear to myself that I’ll change that, make things better for her, so she doesn’t have to grow up so fast. I stroke her hair softly, surprised at the comfort I get myself from it, and watch her relax under the touch. I draw my hands back at the sound of rustling and a light coming, the material on top of the cell being sheathed and two inappropriately cheerful faces peak through. I know not to show any weaknesses with these two. After all, out here…

 

…it’s survival of the fittest.

 

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED.

**Author's Note:**

> Spooky? Not really lmao. Anyway, who else totally ships Roadhog and Milo? Best lesniab couple


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